


Only Time Will Tell

by Storm_Buji



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry, BAMF Hermione, Bamf Ron, Black Family Insanity, Black Harry, Brave Neville, Creation of Family House’s, Families of Choice, First Generation Purebloods, Good Death Eaters, Good Draco, Good Tom, Hufflepuff Ron, Master of Death Harry, Master of Life Ron, Mistress of Magik Hermione, Other, Ravenclaw Hermione, Seer Luna, Slytherin Harry, Smart Harry, Smart Ron, Super Smart Hermione, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 18:00:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm_Buji/pseuds/Storm_Buji
Summary: They missed it, missed the actual Dark Lord. Missed the bombs placed all over the world, and now they all have to suffer for it. Hermione couldn’t help but do research in the library of the massive amount of books they collected.Trying to find a way to change what happened, to change the absolute and utter loss of life the world suffered. They were the only three people left alive and it was driving them up the walls.They couldn’t grieve for everyone, and for those that they could it was breaking them. So she researched and researched until Death had enough, and now that they’re back.Now that they’re back, only time can truly tell if what they have planned will work.May the world pray that it does.





	Only Time Will Tell

The three of them choked on the ashen air they were breathing, the war was over. It had ended at the steepest price possible, the absolute and utter destruction of the world. The complete end of everything.

Except them.

Ron was the first to move from the spot he was standing in, not even his lively and nurturing magic was able to get the grass that used to be to grow again. Hermione just collapsed onto her knees short, shallow gasps escaping her throat, her head falling into her hands.

Harry himself couldn’t move, he was stuck staring at the destruction and carnage around them. He swallowed deeply, _Bombs._ How the hell did they miss the bombs? How did the miss the person who was behind everything pulling on all of their strings?

Harry tilted his head towards Hermione as sobs so quiet they could barely be heard, filtered into the air. So full of grief and heartbreak that it was gut wrenching and blood curdling. Ron went next his screams loud, breaking, and full, and Harry still couldn’t move.

Couldn’t move to comfort the only family he had left, couldn’t move as the death of the people, the death of the world, and everything around them. Filled his soul, until he was positive he wouldn’t ever be able to breathe again.

Couldn’t move as his sanity broke with his magic, the Black family curse taking hold. Couldn’t move as the air around them shimmered as his magic lost all restraints, couldn’t move to get away from his siblings as they reacted to him with fear.

Couldn’t tear his eyes away from what used to be, couldn’t cry or scream, couldn’t turn his head away, couldn’t escape himself as his own conscience ripped him apart on the inside.

Couldn’t look away from the gore and bodies that had scattered around them, couldn’t respond as his siblings slipped their arms around him in hopes to lessen his grief. Couldn’t fight his own mind as it showed him what could’ve been if he just opened his damn eyes and looked.

If he just did his damn job and protected them like he promised, yet he didn’t and he couldn’t look away from the consequences of his actions. He couldn’t do anything and Harry had never felt more useless in his entire life.

Hermione and Ron dragged him down to sit with them and he still couldn’t react. His body still refusing to respond to his commands.

His soul still filling with grief, Death had never had to collect so many souls before, never had to collect so much innocent life. And it just kept building in Harry. Death was the only Ancient that could still feel the people in death, and Harry as Death’s Master, could feel it all as well.

Where unlike Life and Magik, Death could feel everything.

It started off slow in the back of his throat, emotions that were his own and not building a noise that would chill any alive to the bone.

The wail escaped slowly giving an undertone to his elder siblings’ grief before it started to fill with intensity that was entirely different that his siblings’. It then grew in strength, still giving a quiet undertone to the noises’ of the two wrapped around him tightly.

Slowly it grew in sheer loudness, forcing Harry’s head back as the wail reverberated in the air as the wail overtook all sound around, and it continued increasing. His emotions not the only ones using his throat to be heard.

For every soul Death had to collect, that soul’s emotions escaped out of Harry’s throat with the others, until Harry was positive that his throat was ripping from the sheer force of everything. And it continued and continued and continued until Harry was pretty sure that if there was still people alive in the world, everybody would hear it.

Hermione’s sobs quieted, she didn’t feel what Harry and Ron felt, Magik didn’t have as big of a reason to grieve. Ron’s screams were just adding, the absolute shock he suffered as Life just started vanishing from the world, having left him cold, not even the warmth from his siblings’ helping any.

Hermione held them both tightly as was her duty as eldest, while everything was too much for Harry and Ron. Ron unable to feel anything and Harry unable to stop feeling everything.

Hermione sat there barely feeling a thing, and she pulled the males closer. Resigning herself to years of research and cuddling. Harry's wail still building, still harsh and cold and so full of emotion, and Hermione knew that it wasn't just his grief. It was hard not to.

Ron jerked every time that Harry's wail increased, piercing the empty world with something Ron was pretty sure he wouldn't understand. There was a reason why Death was picky about his Master's. Until even his sounds of grief quieted under the wail of Death and her Master, and when Hermione tugged them closer. Ron held Harry tighter refusing to let go as Hermione took them to their safe haven.

Even though right now it wasn't anywhere close to any sort of haven.

Where once they had used the ancient library as a means to get away from the people around them, to get a nice and quiet break. It was now just a reminder how much time they wasted that wasn’t spent around the people they loved.

Where once they would make plans at the middle table before the headed off into the stacks around them, a table covered in all sorts of knickknacks that had been gifted to them by people that they loved. It served as another painful reminder, Hermione ignored it and dragged them further into the depths of the ancient castle.

She was fully set on getting to the room Harry had cleared out for them to use, so use to having people sleep in the same room as him that he hadn’t given a second thought when cleaning the big room. It had been a fluffy bonding moment, it also told them just how bad the Dursley’s had treated him.

And that was the room they were going to use now.

They both stumbled when Harry’s wail started to sound as though it was truly ripping his throat. Hermione clenched her teeth, there was nothing she could do to make him stop. She was pretty sure Harry didn’t even know if he could, and from his reaction. Hermione was pretty sure the Harry and Death felt more than they did.

Hermione tugged them into the room going straight for the bed in the middle of the room Harry had claimed as his own, grabbing a few things from her and Ron’s beds as she passed, she sniffed and tried to ignore the tears still running down her face.

Ron still let out whimpers, small little ones muffled by Harry’s hair. His head no longer thrown back with the force of the wail, while it was still there was still increasing with strength, it was no longer as loud. Hermione had a feeling why, a small inkling fluttering in her stomach as she dragged them onto the bed.

It took days, just cuddling and sleeping until they even felt like moving, Harry had withdrawn into himself more than he ever had before.

Hermione had started attacking the library when she could, while Harry and Ron helped her with gathering the books, taking back ones she already read, getting her food, and dragging her off to bed when it was time. They went like that for a least a year before Death decided the she had enough.

Appearing in the middle of the library with no sound at all, Harry was the first to know she was there. It was a tilt of his head in her direction “Death.” It had come out as a small and soft sound letters barley forming a word. Harry’s throat was still healing.

Death had nodded “Master,” she turned to the others in the room “Others.” Ron smiled like it was an inside joke and Hermione frowned. Death locked eyes with her “I know that this might come off as rude to you, but I am done waiting, I am done watching.” She raised a hand towards Harry “Master do you wish to go back?” Harry nodded, Death smiled “Good, I can send you three back. You will keep all of your memories, you will have to train your ability’s back up.”

Death frowned and glared at the ceiling “There are no more humans, no more mortals. The laws you’re talking about don’t apply.” Harry snickered lightly into his hand and Death sighed, looking rather put upon. “Do you wish to go?” Hermione blinked “Yes.” Death nodded and faced Ron “Do you wish to go?” Ron just smiled “Yes.” Death nodded “Good, good.”

A hand was raised into the air fingers forming together and a snap echoed around the room and all it took was a blink from them.

And years in the past three pair of eyes opened, one a pair of blue in the smallest room in a loud house named the Burrow. One a pair of brown in a room stuffed with books yelling echoing from downstairs, and another pair of green in a small cupboard under the stairs shrieking words echoing outside the door. Each pair held grief, wisdom, and maturity that was unrelatable.

And so it ended and begun again. This time there were three very prepared beings.


End file.
